The Jack Hammer

by Derek Ciccone

  But her words remained. Anna was energized. She did a search of Sedona, and over two million entries came up on her browser. She was determined to go through every website and related article if necessary.

  To refine the search, she added the thing that made Jack Myles famous—baseball. It didn’t take long before an article on the grand opening of the new Youth Baseball park, which had been built by a man named Blake Fisher. According to the article, Fisher gave the credit to the volunteers who helped build and fund it, and because it was a team effort, it mentioned that he didn’t want to be photographed for the article, which might give the impression that it was about him. It went on to say he didn’t want his name on it, but the community insisted. Anna saw another reason for his camera shyness.

  She searched “images” for Blake Fisher and not one related photo came up. But every fiber of her being told her that it was him.

  Anna read on about Fisher. He made local news on numerous occasions over the past ten years, ranging from his work on the baseball field, to his work as an EMT, which included saving several lives. Not unsurprisingly, the articles were not accompanied by photographs of him, nor was there one on his website for his auto repair business. But despite the lack of photographic evidence, he was still hiding in plain sight, which showed just how brazen he was.

  She needed to get in touch with Cam and Sam and let them know what she’d found. And she needed to do it fast. But she had no way of reaching them.

  Right on cue, Natasha dropped another F-bomb that echoed through the suite. Anna couldn’t have agreed more.

  Chapter 82

  It started out as a typical morning in the life of Blake Fisher. A morning jog followed by a hearty breakfast of blueberry pancakes, which he ate on the back porch. He gazed out at the stunning rock formations of Sedona, which were bathing in a glorious morning sun. He would never get completely used to the “normal” life, but these moments, sitting by himself on the porch, was the closest he’d ever come.

  He held an icepack to his cheekbone—the one that had been hit by Teo’s iPod fastball, the last pitch he’d ever thrown. He told Jineane that he’d fallen asleep on his long drive and crashed the truck, which not only explained the cheek, but also why he returned with a new truck.

  The one good thing was that the pain didn’t affect his sleep, since he rarely slept anyway. Sleep was for people who weren’t being hunted by the FBI and CIA … and now by his own family. He got two hours, before he rose before dawn, trying not to wake the snoring Jineane. They might have called him the Jack Hammer, but she sure sounded like one.

  After suppressing the urge to smash her windpipe in the name of peace and quiet, he strolled into Trent’s room and proudly watched the boy sleep. With all the failure and betrayal of his biological children—Natasha being the lone exception—he would make sure Trent didn’t follow their path.

  Just after seven, the birds began to squawk. But upon further inspection, he realized it was actually Jineane and Trent, who’d arisen like crowing roosters, and were already at each other’s throat. Jineane was screaming empty threats if Trent didn’t get in the shower. The quiet was only gone for seconds and he already missed it.

  The bickering twosome eventually joined him on the porch with plates of pancakes in hand. Jineane tried to flirt with him, but he ignored her. She got the full Jack Hammer service last night, and he decided it was enough attention for her. With the recent return of his family into his life, he hadn’t been able to get Katie out of his mind, and Jineane had been benefiting in a big way.

  He did have time to discuss last night’s game with Trent. It was a happy recap, as Fisher’s Auto pummeled the Red Rock Inn 14-2 to remain undefeated.

  Trent did say something strange to him—he was glad Blake was back to his normal self. It dawned on him that he’d become distracted due to the recent circumstances, and had lost his cool on numerous occasions. This was very much out of character, and putting himself in danger. He even took it out on the team one night, his anger boiling over at what he deemed to be lackadaisical play by the twelve-year-olds, and his meltdown echoed off the mountains as stunned parents looked on.

  After breakfast, Jineane and Trent engaged in another battle about Trent’s choice in clothing, before he stormed off to the bus stop. Then Blake and Jineane rode to the shop together, just as they always did. The usual day of oil changes and body repair awaited him.

  Later that morning, George came by with a couple of coffees he’d purchased at McDonald’s. It was their usual morning ritual. Blake would typically add some Smirnoff to the cup and then they would shoot the shit for a half hour or so.

  “So what did you think of the game last night?” he asked George. “Your grandson is turning into a helluva ballplayer.”

  George had a strange grin on his face, which Blake wasn’t sure what to make of. “Two home runs, don’t get much better than that—he’s starting to remind me of the man whose number he wears on his back.”

  Blake gave a dismissive look. “He’s come a long way, but he has many miles to travel before he can be compared to the greatest player of all time.”

  “I’m not sure Jack Myles played long enough to be considered the greatest ever. He was more like a shooting star.”

  George was lucky that Blake liked him. “He was the greatest, it’s not even disputable,” he said.

  “Well, since his son is in town, maybe we could ask him to break the tie. Or at least have him over to one of the practices as a guest instructor. He might not have been his father, but he was a pretty good ballplayer … until he blew his arm out.”

  Blake looked intently at George. “Cam Myles is in Sedona?”

  “I ran into him and his girlfriend in McDonald’s. Her brother had come up to Sedona on his way to Vegas, and she hadn’t heard from him, so she’s worried.”

  “I’ll bet a guy like Cam Myles has a hot piece of ass for a girlfriend. What did she look like?”

  “She’s a looker, no doubt—red hair, big canyons,” he said with a smile. “I think she said her name was Roxie.”

  Blake grinned back. He was willing to bet he knew who the redhead was, and the name wasn’t Roxie. “What was the brother’s name? Maybe I’ve come across him.”

  “Peter Foye. I’d actually met him … he’d come through here last week. Wrote for a tennis magazine. He came to the opening game, sat next to Jineane … she’d remember him.”

  “Oh, yeah. I think she introduced me to him. I hope he’s okay. Hopefully he didn’t try to go hiking by himself up in the canyon and the coyotes got him.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Blake smiled. “I’m sure everything will turn out fine.”

  And now that Cam had come to Daddy, it seemed that it would. The heavens always seemed to shine on him.

  “Hey baby,” Jineane’s shrill voice shot from the office, momentarily breaking his thoughts. “Just got a call from a guy up in Oak Creek. He and his girlfriend got hit by a falling rock, and might have tore off his oil pan. He needs a tow.”

  He didn’t even ask for a name—he already knew. “I’m on it,” he said and headed to his truck.

  Chapter 83

  Cam sat despondently on the hood of the Pathfinder as the tow truck pulled up behind his vehicle. He was impressed by the response time, but no speed would be fast enough. Their search had come to a rocky end, literally.

  Suddenly every sense in Cam’s body tingled. He felt a wave of danger shoot through him like a lightning bolt. He trusted it, and jumped to his feet. He turned toward the footsteps of the large tow-truck operator. He looked like he’d seen a ghost … because he had.

  He couldn’t believe the sight before him. Despite Tim’s dogged pursuit, and the evidence that Henson laid out for them, Cam still didn’t want to accept that his father could be alive. There had to be another explanation. But with each step toward him, Cam knew his entire life had been a lie.

  “Hello, Camelot,” his father boomed the deep
tones Cam remembered from his toddler days. There was no way anybody else could impersonate the voice that was still embedded in his head all these years later.

  He looked like his face had been altered by a combination of a surgeon’s knife and the aging process. And that wasn’t counting the deep bruising on the left side that stretched from his upper cheekbone to under his eye. He hoped he got that from Geoff, getting in a final shot on his way out.

  His hair was still thick as an African jungle, although it was graying at the temples. When he removed his aviator sunglasses, it revealed a pair of eyes that were both fetching and scary, and were the same light blue color as Cam’s.

  “All this time and you don’t even say hello to your father? I thought your mother would have taught you better than that.”

  He continued eyeing the ghost, unable to speak.

  His father’s attention moved to Sam. “And it’s rude not to introduce me to your girlfriend.”

  Cam moved in front of her to act as a shield. He remained silent, but Sam was not without words, “My name is Sam O’Connell and you are a sick bastard!”

  He smiled. “So you are the infamous Sam O’Connell. Or should I call you Roxie? Seems that you’re as bad at this PI business as your brother was. What was the name he used … Peter Foye?”

  Sam lunged at him.

  He reacted by pulling out a 44-Magnum, and stuck it in her face.

  As Cam tried to pull her back, she spit on Jack Myles. She was no longer Sam or Roxie—she was a pissed off sister intent on avenging her brother’s death.

  When he swung his pistol toward her, Cam stepped in front. The handle of the gun slammed into his cheek, and he fell to the ground with a thud.

  Cam looked up at his father with fire in his eyes. “So are you going to kill me, just like you did Geoff?”

  “Your brother and I came to an agreement, but unfortunately he reneged on his part of the deal and I had to act.”

  “What kind of sick son of a bitch kills his own son?”

  “You know full well I did him a favor by putting him out of his misery. He was a genetic mutant who should have been thrown back the day he was born.”

  Cam held his cool, but had already exposed his weakness—Sam—and his father was going to take advantage of that.

  He grabbed her by the hair and stuck the gun into her neck. “You are a lucky girl—when your brother attacked me like that, I slit his neck open,” he pushed the gun deeper into her carotid artery to make his point.

  She squirmed, but it was no use.

  A car appeared in the distance, and he momentarily released Sam, putting the gun back in the waistband of his pants. He waved at the Jeep Cherokee with Utah plates as it passed them without a second look.

  When the vehicle was out of sight, he re-brandished the weapon. “While this hurts me, Camelot, I’m not surprised. Betrayal runs deep on your mother’s side of the family. If it weren’t for your meddling grandfather, then I never would have been put in this position in the first place. I would never of had to leave, and we would have been a happy family—I’ve thought about your mother every day since I was forced to leave. Things would have been different.”

  Cam had seen the way his parents looked at each other in photos—he didn’t doubt his mother once loved him. But at some point during his childhood those picture frames were taken down and shoved into albums that were stashed away in the darkest section of the storage room. He figured that was the point that she learned who he really was.

  “It was just a matter of time before we would have been reunited, and she would have forgiven me … understanding that I had no choice in how things had played out. But now my own children have forced me to do things that make a reunion difficult—things that would be harder for her to understand. Thoughts of being back with your mother kept me going when things were the bleakest, but now you and your siblings have destroyed that dream.”

  “You killed her father—she would never have forgiven you for that.”

  “I made a deal with him that saved your life. I kept my word … until your brother forced my hand.”

  “Saved us? What you did is save your own ass, while abandoning your family. You’re nothing but a coward.”

  The words seemed to bounce off him. “I’ve made my mistakes, what father hasn’t? But regardless, I’m your father. And since your mother isn’t here at the moment, I’m in charge of your well-being. And the first thing I need to do is decide on your punishment.”

  “Just knowing you’re alive is punishment enough.”

  “We’ll see if you’re still saying that later on.” He grabbed Cam by his hood. “Your first act of contrition will be to load your vehicle onto the flatbed.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will put a bullet into your girlfriend’s skull.”

  “You’re going to kill us anyway.”

  He raised the gun to Sam’s temple—she looked like a frightened child. He won this round—Cam agreed to help the monster. He loaded the Pathfinder onto the truck, while his father shouted out instructions, holding the gun on him. Not exactly the father/son bonding moments he’d always longed for.

  Once the vehicle was secure on the truck, he informed them, “Now we’re going to go someplace very quiet, so we can have a long-overdue family chat.”

  “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, son—we’re going to talk about all of the people you’ve told about my whereabouts, and who your sister Anna might have told about my presence, before she died in that unfortunate bombing.”

  Cam traded a glance with Sam. He believed Anna was dead. Seemed that father doesn’t always know best.

  “We better do it fast. You don’t have much time, since Lee Henson will be here any minute,” Cam bluffed.

  His laugh echoed off the canyon. “My old friend Henson has been chasing me for almost thirty years with nothing to show. It seems the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

  “Believe what you want, but if I were you, I’d be using this precious time to make a run to another new life. Do you think it’s a coincidence that I just happened to call my long-dead father for a tow, two thousand miles away from home. You’re being set up.”

  Cam could tell he’d gotten under his skin, but he didn’t know if that was a positive development for them. By the way his father grabbed him tightly by the surgically repaired left elbow and tossed him into the cab of the truck, it seemed as if all he did was anger the bear. Sam got the same treatment.

  Cam’s father got in the driver’s side and started the truck. They then began the ascent up the treacherous Mogollon Rim.

  Chapter 84

  “I’m going to show you Sedona the way it should be seen—from Schnebly Hill. For my money, it’s the most enticing view of Red Rock Country,” the Jack Hammer spoke like some psychopathic tour guide.

  The truck gradually climbed to the summit, and then pulled off into that “quiet” place he spoke of. Deserted might have been a more accurate term. Cam reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand.

  “Let her go, she is no harm to you,” he said.

  The statement brought more laughter. “Sorry, son, this is the game you chose—and we don’t score on the honor system here.”

  “Kill me if you want, but Sam has nothing to do with this.”

  “You should have thought about that before you started this Bonnie and Clyde act. Do I have to remind you, that you came after me? I’m just defending myself.”

  With hard pokes of his gun to their spines, he forced them out of the vehicle. He then walked them into the forest. When he reached his desired spot, he instructed, “Get on your knees with your hands on your head.”

  They followed his orders. “Okay Camelot, here’s your last chance to see your thirtieth birthday. Who knows of my whereabouts?”

  “Go to Hell!”

  “If you prefer, I can shoot your girlfriend first and we can sit here and watch h
er bleed to death while you make up your mind.”

  It was the one card he would never be able to beat. He gave in ... sort of. “It’s hard to tell, really. Now that Henson knows, I’m guessing that half the US law enforcement officials are up to speed, and that’s too big of a number for me to venture a guess. I’m guessing there’s going to be a pretty big manhunt, and a lot of coverage on the news. Maybe Mom will cover it when they haul your ass off to jail.”

  Cam braced, praying that he wouldn’t respond by splattering Sam’s brains across the forest. His hoped that his father was aware that killing her would end any future conversations they might have, and he was banking that his old man really needed those answers. He was just trying to buy time.

  A gun landed in the brush by Cam’s feet. He just looked at it, stunned. Not the response he expected.

  “Go ahead—pick it up. This is obviously what you want, son. Here are the rules—you beat me, she lives. I win, and, well … you better just hope you win.”

  He patted himself down to show that he had no other weapon. Cam picked up the gun and stood, still hesitant.

  His father moved slowly to his left, and Cam patterned the move like they were dancing slowly, their stares never wavering. They walked in a slow circle, Cam holding the gun right at his father’s chest. He made a couple of fake lunges in Cam’s direction, meant to throw him off, but he kept his eye on his chest.

  “What are you waiting for, Camelot? Shooting me is your ticket out of here. Tell me you’re not having second thoughts about shooting your dear old dad?”

  “You’ve been dead my whole life, so I have no problem sending you right back to hell.”

  He laughed. “You can’t fool your own father. The fact is, you don’t have it in you—both Geoff and Natasha would have already sent me to a dirt nap. You don’t have the killer instinct in you.”

  He was wrong. Cam extended the gun, ready to shoot. But when he did, a foot came at him like a missile. The gun went off just as his father kicked it away with a Bruce Lee-style kick that struck out of nowhere. Sam screamed as the errant gunshot rustled tree branches.